Will we be heading on down the highway(waterway) EVER?

“Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.” -John Bunyan (Pilgrim’s Progress)

How is the air up there, Joe? He found the time to snap a selfie!

This morning, after our first night on the hook, we woke before dawn to find our boat still snug on her anchorage in the Chesapeake mud(yes- we worried and woke). As I measured the coffee into the French press, the geese honked overhead, sounding their ascent southward. We subconsciously began moving through our departure routines a little more rushed than moments before.

Joe and I have also felt that urgency to get on the “road” and hurry southward. The closer we drew to finishing our project list, the farther away departure has felt. Each day, we crossed many items off our list; each day things broke. One crossed-off item was replaced by two more items even more urgent.

This is not a new feeling for us as we’ve worked together on this project beginning October 2014. Any reader who has ever worked on a big project may be nodding in agreement and perhaps also with more sagacity and patience than we possess.

The happy day we bought our Passport 42. October 2014! The innocents! Big dream! Big work ahead!

Some nights our anxiety has kept us awake as we wondered if we would EVER get off the pier. We have managed to laugh our way through much of it, hence the subtitle, as we parody rock songs from our youth, injecting humor into the variety of mishaps and successes we’ve encountered.

After the glorious weather last Saturday, winds began to blow and the sky began to spit a mist that persisted through the week, dampening our bones, our souls and plans for completing any project that required drying.

We couldn’t push off until we solved our dinghy dilemma. The dinghy is our family car, as well as our life boat. Ours is from 2008(expected lifetime around 15 years)and had sprouted small leaks. We tried repairing in the last week, patching it with gorilla glue; which had been successful other times, so we arranged to sell it cheaply to a marina neighbor who thought he could make it work for him. He, in turn, was going to take us in his truck to buy a new West Marine Inflatable at an amazing price that another marina friend had helped us negotiate. We would be ready to leave Tuesday morning.

On the gray Monday morning, however, we agreed that we couldn’t trade our old hypalon for pvc, a material that breaks down quickly in the sun. I had scoured the internet for over a week trying to find a suitable used one and there was none to be found. I did learn SO much about dinghies!(note to self: separate newbie sailor post).

The hypalon bubbles over leaks when soap and water are applied. Joe’s take on the matter.

A new hypalon dinghy would take two weeks to a month to be delivered; time we didn’t feel we could wait. Time we didn’t want to wait as each morning seemed colder and damper than the last. Our marina community educated us on dinghy tube sealer, only available at one West Marine store about 40 minutes away. Off we went.

The successful dinghy repair was the highlight of the morning. She has earned a name: Phoenix, as she rose from the ashes.

Joe scaling the mast was a highlight of Tuesday afternoon. In a momentary bit of calm sunshine after the dinghy resurrection, my husband, triumphant, as he reached the top, adjusted the wind vane and returned to the deck. Woohoo!

As my sister Beth humorously put it later: he inched and I winched. We attach the climber to the winch in case they slip, keeping them aloft. As Joe climbed, I took up the slack on the halyard and then eased it off as he descended.

Elation! We would be ready to leave Wednesday morning after our haul-out for bottom cleaning. Take #2 (this week).

Joe was recovering his breath when the yard manager, John, signaled that they were ready for us to motor over to the slip in front of the travel lift, ready for the next morning’s 7:30 am haul out. No rest for the wicked! Yet-our very last task!

Joe hastily slipped the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered, died and began smoking. My lunch rose in my stomach. He opened the floor to access the engine, smacked it with a screwdriver and tried again. The engine coughed roughly to life and we were off to the slip. What next?

After a strenuous day that began with resurrecting the dinghy, included climbing the mast, and many other tasks in between, Joe grimly determined that the starter was the problem and he should replace it immediately so we could leave Wednesday midday.

It was now 6 pm, Tuesday evening. All the other live-aboards had headed for the showers. We had worked feverishly since 6:30 am and felt defeated once again.

I blithely handed Joe a rum and tonic for perspective and the chore was moved until the next day. I sent the message to family: not quite ready to go. Again.

Thus began Take 3.

Early next morning was a repeat of coughing and smoking, tapping(okay-hammering!) but the engine no longer bothered to cooperate. The yard guys moved us to our slip using boat hooks, poles, a few colorful words and ingenuity. We attempted to regain our composure using deep, slow breaths and very polite language to each other as our situation became clear.

Joe paced a bit, in deep thought and consternation, then uttered some of my favorite words: “I can fix that.” And so he did. Joe replaced the starter with a spare he had packed away.

“The list.” The watermaker was moved off the essential list and will be finished in a warmer clime, Florida, before commissioning.

Our neighbors and marina friends, Lisa and Fred, live on s/v Ritual, their Slocum, alongside their two cats. We hope to see them out there! Best neighbors ever!

Nica and Jeremy Waters in front of s/v Calypso. Jeremy is a boat restorer extraordinaire. Nica, supplier of our dinner’s chocolate, is a co-host of the Boat Galley podcast. She also writes the blog Fit2Sail and shares her sailing wisdom at sailing conferences.

Hours later, troubles forgotten, we celebrated a farewell dinner with our marina friends into the darkness. Bottles of wine were sipped, food shared, stories swapped, advice and must-see tips exchanged. As the chocolate bars made multiple rounds around the table, we lingered. Again, rain closed the curtain on the evening.

The happy couple ready to get on down the highway. For real! (Photo courtesy of Lisa from s/v Ritual).

The next morning, up before dawn, I laundered the grease and sweat-stained clothes from our travails. We topped off the water tanks and said fond goodbyes to our new friends. We steamed out of the marina to cheers and shouts of “hooray!” and “woohoo!” “Another one leaves the dock!” (Parodying with the intentional ironic twist, “Another one bites the dust!”).

Take #3! Eight years since we first bought Adiona!

As we sailed to our first anchorage on the Rhode River, waves of emotion rolled over us. Exhaustion. Disbelief. Belief. Numbness. Joy. Love. Gratitude. Nervousness. Wonder.

The highs and lows of the week. Top: Joe scaling the mast. Below: starter repair hell. There is always that one impossible-to-reach bolt.

As I finish writing this, it is our third night out. We are anchored on Indian Creek, having made it to Virginia! We sailed over 53 miles today from Solomon’s, cruising along at over 8 knots at times, flying both the main and jib sail.

As the sun set, Joe and I enjoyed Moscow mules, sautéed pears and goat cheese in our cockpit enclosure. The crescent moon rose as the sun set, casting its clear reflection onto the water lapping against our hull.

The thrill of the journey coupled with a peaceful contentment has begun to work its magic on our souls. Hours outside, the rhythm of the winds, waves, weather, and tides fill our thoughts.

Visits with friends- old and new- and family feel extra sweet. Here are my cousin, Debra Rantanen and husband, Andy Knapp joining us for dinner at La Vela on Solomon’s. Catching up! We closed the restaurant down.

What lies ahead? That is a question each of us ask ourselves as we travel through our lives. For now, we are “heading on down the highway” soaking in the fullness of each moment, relaxing into our journey.